The Illusion Must Die

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Night in the desert.

Abba Arsenius sat alone in his cell and discovered something terrible.

A man can say he is nothing and still remain the center of his own life.

The old man bowed his head.

“I fled the world,” he said quietly.

“I fled the court.

I fled the praise of men.

I fled power and learning.”

He placed his hand upon his chest.

“But this followed me.”

The heart continued to beat.

“I call myself dust before God.

I accuse myself.

I confess my weakness.”

Silence filled the cell.

“And still I remain.”

The old man spoke again.

“This is the illusion.”

“A man may say he is nothing and still sit upon the throne.”

Arsenius closed his eyes.

“I thought humility would destroy this.”

A long silence passed.

Then he whispered,

“But humility can also be possessed.”

The words were bitter.

“I say I am nothing.

I confess that I am dust.

And still I stand at the center.”

The old man pressed his forehead to the ground.

“Lord Jesus Christ…”

His voice trembled.

“Remove me.”

The wind moved against the walls of the cell.

After a long time Arsenius spoke again.

“This is why God permits abandonment.”

“When prayer becomes dry.

When strength disappears.

When a man discovers he cannot even generate repentance.”

The old man lifted his head.

“Then the truth appears.”

“I do not possess life.”

Not prayer.

Not humility.

Not the desire for God.

All of it was given.

Given moment by moment.

The desert grew quiet.

Arsenius looked into the darkness.

“So God strips the soul.”

Not in anger.

But in mercy.

He removes the illusion.

The illusion that life belongs to us.

The heart begins to learn another way to breathe.

Not with its own strength.

But like a beggar waiting for every breath from God.

Arsenius lay down upon the earth.

His voice was almost gone.

“Lord…”

A long silence passed.

Then the old man whispered into the dust,

"Let the illusion die."